


Not My Baby Brother

by chupacabras



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-08-30
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:35:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,496
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chupacabras/pseuds/chupacabras
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Merle joins the group at the prison he sees changes in his brother he could do without-- and will do whatever he can to change.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kansas

Merle watched his brother very carefully when they entered the prison; these people had changed him. They had a fine set-up in here— it was a shame that The Governor would be here soon to take it all away— but these motherfucking people had gotten to his brother’s head. Merle didn’t like it one bit. Didn’t trust them. Daryl was safest with  _him_. These people acted like they cared, sure— all of them swarming in to welcome Daryl back with relief on their faces— but it wasn’t him they were happy to have. His brother was a skilled hunter, that was all. He probably kept them alive better than that goody-goody cop. Merle completely saw this fake touching reunion coming.

The baby, though. That was something he couldn’t have imagined in a million years. Not that someone had knocked someone else up, no. Whatever. People were a lot more willing when the end of the world came around. 

He just didn’t expect for the little blond girl to walk over and hand it to Daryl. Merle stood there in awe when he saw his brother smile— warm and proud like a father, and he could have sworn he felt his stomach drop. But then his brother asked the kid, Carl?, if he had been looking after his sister while he was gone— and whatever that sensation was? It passed. Still, the sight dumbfounded him. The cop came up and he snorted at the three of them as they stood there with the kid— he didn’t get it. A squawking baby was the last thing anybody needed.

Merle went to investigate their food situation with bothersome thoughts on why Daryl had rushed to the bridge to help those people with the infant. Something about this whole thing didn’t feel right. Didn’t settle. But he couldn’t put his finger on it. He was missing something. Something right in his face but he couldn’t see it. It angered him. All of this shit angered him. He’d have to have a talk with Daryl later.

*

Dinner was tense, to put it lightly. Nobody seemed happy to have Merle in the prison. The Asian and his girlfriend glared an arsenal into him whenever he spoke. The old man had asked about Woodbury, about what they were in for— and he had told them straight. They would all be dead if they sat on their asses here. While they argued, Daryl fed the baby— before eating himself, Merle noted. He’d sat across from Merle, but next to the cop, bouncing the babe while he joined in on the conversation on what they should do.

The first thing they all agreed on was that Merle’s cell would be locked at night, despite his complaining and promises that he wasn’t about to hurt anyone. He would have loved to bring up the fact that he was missing his hand because of someone present but Daryl’s eyes were screaming louder than the rest of them. He didn’t have to follow Daryl but he did. He couldn’t not. And so he’d have to deal with these bitches and their rules. Daryl had convinced them all to let him in, he wasn’t gonna undo that. Not when he knew what was outside and on the way. He decided, instead, to make a comment on how it wouldn’t be the first time he’d slept in a locked cell. After that he fell mostly silent, keeping an eye on his brother and squinting whenever he saw him speak with Rick. Nobody else here had grown up with him, so they probably couldn’t notice how his voice or posture would change. It nagged at him. Whatever it was it  _nagged_  and he wanted nothing more than to pull his brother aside and ask him what this funny business was all about. He’d have to wait until he could get his brother to himself— should be easy, right?

No. His chance didn’t come, because after dinner he was stuffed in his new cage and his brother went off to do fuck-knows-what with the others. Flopping on his bunk he decided he’d wait until his little bother came back around and  _then_  they would have their man-to-man. But with food in his belly and a roof over his head again sleep tempted him and won. 

*

The sound of a baby crying woke him up and for just a split second he was a kid back home wishing Daryl would shut up before their father started hollerin’. With their mother suffering from Postpartum Depression and crying all the time refusing to leave bed he would have to be the one to get up and try making formula and hum his brother to sleep. But when his feet hit the floor he was a grown man in a prison during the end of the world—

And somebody was already humming.

Merle froze where he stood and listened— listened to his brother hum what was undoubtedly Kansas in the middle of the night to a baby that wasn’t his. Unless he had knocked Rick’s wife up— which would have been hilarious to behold. In the silence he wanted to call out and grab Daryl’s attention— but then there was whispering that he was busy straining to hear. 

“She missed you.” It was the sheriff, of course. Merle stood and moved just a little closer to the door , sure to be as quiet as possible as he leaned to get a better listen. “ _I_  missed you.” Merle rolled his eyes at that, despite how sincere and tired it sounded. What a load of shit.

“I know…” His brother sounded guilty. Fffft. “Missed ya’ll too. M’sorry I left, Rick. Y’… y’know that, right? S’just— Merle.” Merle perked up a little at the sound of his name— this was it. This was where his brother was going to tell his fake buddy Rick that blood is blood and the Dixons were gonna stick together no matter what. The only reason he sounded troubled was because none of these blockheads would get it. 

“I know. Daryl, I know—” This fucking liar. “I shouldn’t have made you choose.”

“Yer damn right you shouldn’ta.” His brother’s voice had raised just a bit, but it quieted down again as he continued. “Makin’ me choose ‘tween you and my brother. Puttin’ me onna spot like that. That’s my _brother_. You’re my…” Merle’s brows raised as Daryl’s voice strained and trailed off and he was leaning so far over that he’d probably lose balance if he wasn’t careful. “My…” Rick made a shushing noise that made Merle want to slap him. That was his brother not some woman having a tantrum.

“I know. You don’t gotta label—”

“Fuckin’ love you.”  _What_? 

“I know.”  _ **What**_?

“Merle started goin’ on ‘bout how th’Governor’d prolly killed ya’ll already. I fucked up. I shouldn’ta left.” There was movement and Merle heard it. There was no doubt. That was the sound of a kiss. Of lips meeting in secret in the night. “M’sorry.” Another one, and Merle stepped back— away from the sound with a quick jerk of his head. He moved back to the bunk and tried his damnedest not to hear Rick tell his brother to stop apologizing while he kept kissing him. Tried not to listen as they settled in the bunk together and whispered lovingly to each other. He failed.   

His talk with Daryl in the morning was going to be very different from what he had originally planned.


	2. Starve

The sound of the scuffle took everyone’s attention away from the chores they had been assigned that morning. It started simple, the Dixon brothers having a heated discussion they assumed had something to do with Merle’s behavior at breakfast— but then Daryl suddenly dropped the bag of flour he was carrying in favor of turning and punching his older brother square in the nose. Their fight exploded into flying fists and cusses, supplies forgotten on the ground by their feet. 

Everyone who was inside was on them as quickly as possible, trying to separate them— but the damage was done. Merle’s nose was bleeding like no tomorrow and Daryl’s cheek was doing the same— a result of Merle’s makeshift prosthetic slamming him upside the head. Carol and Rick had to pull Daryl off of Merle and it was too loud to really catch what words were screamed. 

Daryl’s eyes were wild when he shook Rick off of him, already turning and pointing a finger accusingly at Merle, who was scrambling to get back up and raise his fists again.

“I knew I never shoulda brought you ‘ere!” Rick noted how his voice cracked with emotion and something twisted in his chest. “Shoulda left your ass at th’creek and just come here m’self! Shoulda let you _starve_!” 

“Daryl.” It was all Rick needed to say to pull his attention to him, arm out and ready to catch him if he dove for his brother again. He was slow as he let his hand land on a shoulder, eyes trusting but worried. He didn’t want Daryl to get the wrong idea; he was all for Merle getting his ass kicked, he just didn’t want Daryl getting hurt in the process. The group couldn’t afford this kind of tension, not today. He needed Daryl focused. The younger Dixon huffed and looked like he was ready to argue, but Merle beat him to speaking. A cuss. Rick hadn’t expected the eldest Dixon barrel for him and probably would have been struck dumb if Daryl hadn’t pounced to stop him. Screams broke out again, but Rick was able to hear better this time. 

“Don’t you ever touch my brother again!” Merle was trying to get at him, to reach for him but he was having trouble with Daryl and Glenn on him. “Y’here me, Grimes?! I’ll kill ya myself! You touch him again and I’ll kill ya ‘fore the Governor can!” They were dragging him, trying to steer his flailing body into one of the cells so they could lock him into it, Rick could tell. Merle was screaming and Daryl joined in, mainly just hollering various forms of ‘ _shut up, shut the fuck up_.’ 

Neither he or Glenn were easy on him as they tried getting him closer to the door and it became clear they would need at least one more hand in getting him in there. Rick took a step to move, but there was an abrupt, hard noise and Merle suddenly stumbled forward and hit the floor, unconscious  Everyone’s eyes moved to Hershel as he calmly lowered his crutch back down so he could support himself on it. A silence fell over the group and everybody stood still, just looking at Merle who was out cold. Glenn looked like he wanted to ask Daryl a question, but the redneck turned on his heel and started stomping away before a word was spoken. Several members of the group called for him but Rick stood still, looking after Daryl and then to Merle on the ground. A horrible feeling settled over him when he remembered Merle’s words, something clicked,  and before he could stop himself he was chasing after Daryl.  


	3. Thunder

Daryl’s heart was pounding in his ears as he put distance between himself and the group, his brother’s words still circling his thoughts.

_Just cause you’re in a jail don’t mean y’gotta be someone’s bitch, baby brother. Certainly don’t gotta turn into a fag and be suckin’ some sheriff’s sausage fer favors._

His knuckles throbbed from when he’d turned and swung, re-breaking Merle’s nose. He should have kept hitting him. He should have broke his teeth in. It was almost too tempting to go back and kick him in the ribs a few times, but he was already cruising  It only took him a few steps, which he was taking two at a time, to notice that he was being followed. There was no point in looking back, he knew it was Rick. Daryl had gone and shown more emotion than usual and that meant a talk of some kind— hovering and worried staring at the least. With his hackles already raised Daryl wasn’t sure he could handle one of these… moments. These things that they did. Because of what they were. He loved Rick, he’d told him more than once— but he needed space. Space that Rick wasn’t going to give him. 

It was frustrating, but when Rick called for him his legs immediately stopped. There were fences on either side of him, the gray sky above, and he was trapped. He stood perfectly still, gaze shifting to one of the fences, and while Rick closed the distance between them he noticed a small hole forming. The cross-walk wasn’t anywhere that had seen walkers, but he still made a mental note to fix it— later. When Rick wasn’t doing a half-circle around him, as if he needed to block his path.

Daryl heard Rick sigh, and Rick saw Daryl’s shoulders tense in turn. 

“Daryl, look at me.”

“He  _knows_.”

“And that means you can’t look at me?” In front of him, Daryl flinched slightly before tearing his gaze away from the hole. There was defiance in his eyes for a moment, but it faded and shifted to something more apologetic as the silence stretched between them. Rick saw fear in those eyes too— the fear of his own brother, the fear of how the group would handle the news, and the fear of how Rick himself was going to react to the whole thing. Rejection. When Rick caught a glimpse of that fear in particular he stepped forward and gently dropped his head so their foreheads were together. The action caused calmness to roll through them both; this was one of their private things— one of  _their things_. Back when they had just started in on the relationship, when boundaries were hard to spot, this was how Daryl would show his affection. As weird as it was at first, it stuck. Even after Rick had finally asked if he could actually kiss him, this was still somehow more intimate for the two men most of the time. “I don’t care if he knows, Daryl. I don’t care if  _they_  know. I don’t care if the  _rest of the world_  knows.” Whatever was left of it, anyway. “I know your brother means the world to you. Anybody can see that. But his opinion on this isn’t going to change how I feel. Not about you. Not about  **us**.” Daryl squeezed his eyes shut and moved just a little closer as words and voice alike sunk in. His brother would never understand this— the feeling of someone’s very voice seeping in and filling up some kind of special place. Merle was too hardened against the world. Too angry at everything. And Daryl had been so ready to walk the same path no too long ago. Rick and the others had steered him right. Kept him going on the proper course. He knew that, now.

They stood like that for a few moments, fores together and thunder rumbling off somewhere in the distance— like some kind of twisted metaphor of the storm they would have to face the moment they broke apart. Daryl didn’t know what to say; Daryl conveyed his thoughts with glances and small hums. Rick always wanted more than that, always pushed to get just a little more out of him. Daryl knew it was out of love and concern— that Rick both wanted and needed for Daryl to open up if this whole… thing… was going to work out. Rick never allowed him to just shut down, not anymore because he had gotten good at spotting it from miles away. Daryl knew that was why Rick was out here with him: to keep him from running. To coax just a little more out of him because he would give it.

“I’ll talk to ‘im.” He may have sounded defeated, even so much to sigh when Rick kissed him along the cheekbone before breaking apart, but there was a new determination in his heart. Merle didn’t have control over his life anymore. Daryl knew what was best for himself, and Rick Grimes was on that list.


	4. Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that it took me so long to update this particular work! I started this when Merle first entered the prison and I wanted to see how things would play out before I did more-- and then, well. Shit happened. I do think that I know where I am going to go with this now, thankfully.

Rick fell into a calm step behind Daryl as he started for the cellblock again, the two of them retracing the steps they had just done with an entirely different attitude. It was collective, calm. Rick wasn't chasing Daryl-- wasn't racing against the man's own emotions. He could see with the setting of Daryl's jaw and the tension in his shoulders that the hunter was determined as well as nervous-- and the ex-cop understood he had every right to be so.

Still, it was amazing to actually consider how far his hunter had come. Daryl had spent so many years in the looming shadow of his brother, his own personality stunted because of it. Within weeks of Merle being missing Daryl started to change, started come out of the shell that he'd hidden in. The man started to speak his opinions. Started showing his true nature-- and most in the group found it to be surprising. When Sophia went missing it was Daryl who scolded the women for their worries. It was Daryl who almost lost his life looking for her. Back then it was a mystery but after getting to know the redneck more intimately, it made sense. Despite the hate, abuse, drugs, loss, and poison that was a key element to Daryl's childhood-- he still managed to come out of it clean. Damaged, yes-- but clean. His heart wasn't hardend to everything, only skittish.

It had taken a lot of work to free Daryl from some of his insecurities-- but Rick and the others had done it. Rick had learned that it only took a small gesture. A nod. A moment to actually thank him. Physical contact was a rickety bridge that Daryl had to trust him with-- but he still did. It was insane how much Daryl actually trusted him. That fact alone should have destroyed the dread in his stomach as they entered the cell block, but it didn't. Merle Dixon was in Daryl's life first. It frustrated him to think about, but the man obviously held some kind of power over Daryl. A power strong enough that had caused Daryl to walk away for a short time. Even as Rick watched Daryl approach his brother's cell with his head high he worried that it could snake in, somehow.

"Get me outta here, little brother. We're leavin'."

And there they were: the words that made Rick lift his head and look to Daryl, dread building. The hunter's stride didn't even faulter, though. He kept moving until he was in front of the bars, voice coming even and calm.

"We ain't goin' nowhere-- and I sure as Hell ain't gonna letcher dumbass out, neither." Rick was trying to stay more-or-less out of sight, but Merle stepped right up, almost flush with the bars and spotted him. The glare he recieved was to be expected-- and Rick could see that others were starting to gather. Glenn was hovering with Maggie, the two of them starved for something-- _anything_ else to add to their list of reasons why Merle shouldn't be within fifty miles of the prison, let alone alive. Carol's motions had stopped with whatever she was fiddling with and Rick knew his son was likely in one of the cells, listening.

Every single person present cared about Daryl. This conversation was _tense_ and that small fact was the fuel. Merle was behind bars and Daryl had planted himself perfectly out of reach-- as if he had the distance memorized, but if the older brother made any move to hurt Daryl again? These people would be on him in a heartbeat. By the way he was standing, tall and unwilling to be so much as shaken, Rick could tell that Daryl knew this well. They were a family-- his real family, now.

And he wasn't the only Dixon who seemed to notice.

"Well, now!" Even with the chuckle to his voice, the anger leaked through. "Th'boyfriend wasn't enough-- y'went out and got yerself a backbone, too." Daryl's hand clenched at his side and Rick saw the hunter tense-- knew it was because of the audience. Daryl had wanted to keep their relationship on the down-low for as long as possible, wanted to tell the others when he felt it was right. With Merle's outburts earlier and his words now the picture was probably starting to come together for the others-- those who weren't observant enough already, anyway. "Doesn't change th'fact that we're leavin' soon as I'm outta here, Darleen."

"Didja loose yer ears with yer fuckin' hand, Merle?" Daryl had begun to sway a bit like he usually did when he was riled up, and Rick could sense the escalation, both of the brothers functioning on short fuses. And each one knew what buttons to push, the hand comment bringing a new flare to Merle's eyes.

"I'd still have my hand if it weren't for yer--"

There almost wasn't time to catch the movement, Daryl lunging forward and grabbing the bars, face close to his brother's as he snarled.

"My **what**? _Huh_? Go on, **_say it_**!" Daryl's voice had raised to the point where Rick was sure everyone inside-- and maybe a few walkers surrounding the prison-- heard. A silence fell for a moment, time almost seeming to freeze after the outburst, and the tension in the air could have been cut with a blade and served on a plate.

It was Judith's sudden cry that broke the trance they all fell into, Daryl's head turning on instinct-- and that was all it took. Before Rick could so much as open his mouth Merle reached through the bars with his good hand, twisted his fingers into fabric and yanked.

And for a split second the sound of Daryl's skull hitting the metal drowned out his own daughter.


	5. Bruised

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To be honest I ended up writing and scrapping this chapter several times before settling on this version. I hope that it is okay. Thank you all for the lovely comments and your patience! This fic should be wrapped up in two more chapters or so.

Daryl couldn't help but find a little amusement in the fact that Rick was wincing more during the cleaning of his face than he was. Hershel had been careful in looking him over and had concluded that a broken nose and mild concussion was the reward he got for standing up against Merle Dixon. It could have been worse, and Daryl knew it.

It had been a cheap shot-- but that was just like Merle. The man wouldn't have won half his fights if he hadn't found some way to cheat or take his opponent down with surprise beforehand. His older brother loved a good fist fight, of course-- but when pride or personal matters were to be considered, Merle like a fast and dirty end to things. It was part of why he'd spent so much time in jail, and why he was always starved to get back out and find revenge while he was in there. He'd punish people again and again just for knowing him, let alone crossing him, and Daryl had learned the hard way that some cycles just weren't worth it when it came to Merle. 

The trouble was that they were brothers-- that for the longest time they were all they had. Daryl had learned to fit in with Merle's friends. The gangs. The druggies. All he had to do was keep his head down and his opinions to himself. Daryl Dixon could do that-- cold be nothing more than the source of a candle flame's amount of heat in a room... but Merle. That wasn't who Merle was. He wouldn't change for anybody-- especially not himself. Daryl having friends and a new family meant he would fight them-- fight all of them out of spite.

Daryl was no exception. 

With the diagnosis out of the way Rick hovered and fidgeted until Hershel left the two of them alone-- likely to go and have a few words with his oldest daughter. There had been an explosion of harsh words and threats after Daryl's face cracked against metal and he imagined there was still some smoothing over to be done. This gave Rick a chance to take the seat Hershel had been previously occupying, hands quickly moving to take up a wet cloth and start dabbing at the remaining blood on Daryl's face. Any flinch from the hunter caused an apologetic wince from Rick-- and for some reason Daryl couldn't help but feel like a child. Not because of his own childhood; cuts and scrapes were something to 'walk off' growing up-- but like something out of some movie.

"Yer hennin' over me."

Rick managed a chuckle.

"You always turn sour whenever you have to sit still."

"Pretty sure'm sour 'cause my face is busted."

"Yeah, well..." Daryl watched as the older man's expression changed. Their faces were close, Rick leaning in and squinting due to the level of concentration he was putting into making sure any new or dried blood was removed. Daryl had a habit of moving away when he noticed they were close like this, ears burning and frustration rising over the fact that he couldn't put distance between them or turn his head away in this situation without Rick catching him. Even with their relationship a stable as it was, Daryl could still be shy. He just... didn't know how to deal with this kind of quiet intimate stuff all the time. "There-- s'the most I think can be done. I wish we could put some ice on it, but..."

"Nah." He wanted to tell Rick that he was fine, that this wasn't the worst he had experienced at the hands of others, that he would walk it off-- but he knew it was a sore subject. Rick had told him to speak with his brother and he'd gotten hurt during the process. That would weigh heavy on his mind but they didn't have the time. Daryl's trained ears picked up more rumbling in the distance-- the storm that threatened them when they were outside looming closer-- and the ominous feeling it brought caused him to speak. "When're we leavin'?"

Rick's expression changed again-- it always darkened whenever the Governor came to mind. 

"We should get there early. Get a feel of the place-- but I don't know if I'm comfortable with makin' you come with if--"

"Too bad."

There was no room for arguing. Rick nodded and stood, offering a hand out to the bruised man before him. His nose was clearly broken, lip was split, and one of his brows was turning a concerning shade... but Daryl stood and appeared strong. If he could stand up to Merle the way he had, Rick should have no problem with the Governor.

At least that was what he tried telling himself as they walked side by side to inform the group it was time.


End file.
